Discipline Down Under

by Patricia Green

  The men stopped to greet Tripp.

  “Welcome home, son!” his father said, giving him a hearty slap on the arm. Tripp’s grandfather said the same and slapped him on the other arm.

  “Who’s the sheila?”

  Tripp put his arm around Peg’s shoulders, something he hadn’t done in his mother’s presence. “This is Peggy Fisk. I brought her home to meet ya, sorry old men that ya are.”

  “Hmph,” said the grandfather.

  “Peggy, this is John Ruf, my grandfather, in case ya couldn’t tell by his wrinkles.” He shared a wink with her and she knew Tripp was teasing his elders. “And this is Emmett Ruf, my dad. Watch out for him. He’ll pinch yer bum if yer not looking.”

  Emmett laughed. “That I would.”

  “Hands off my girl,” Tripp replied with a stern voice, but Peg could hear the laughter there, too.

  “It’s nice to meet you, John and Emmett,” she said, offering her hand. They both shook it gently in turn. Though their hands were big and callused, they were mindful of how much smaller she was than they.

  “Come in and eat!” Letty shouted, banging her pot again. She sounded a little impatient this time.

  The group walked toward the house. “Where are your brother and sister?” Peg asked.

  “William’s away at uni. Abby is around here somewhere. Probably tending to Danni.”

  “I didn’t see Abby in the house earlier.”

  “Abby likes to tinker with the motorbikes. She was probably in the shed.”

  Peg couldn’t imagine working with her hands in such a greasy, dirty way. Abby’s nails must be awful. But then, it must be satisfying to make something broken whole again. It was an interesting idea to contemplate. Fleetingly, Peg wondered if she could be good with her hands like that. Sometimes, it felt like she couldn’t be good at anything but spending her parents’ money.

  Once they got in the family dining room, everyone gathered around the table and Peg met Abby. She was a pretty woman, with artfully dyed blond hair and green eyes like Tripp and Letty. Danni definitely bore a resemblance to her mother. Both had pert little noses and good cheekbones. And, to Peg’s surprise, Abby’s nails were short but clean, despite working with the motorbikes.

  The conversation around the table was lively, but Peg felt more than a couple of vibes from the phone in her back pocket. After a short time, she excused herself and went into her room to reply to some of the texts.

  She didn’t realize she’d been gone so long until Tripp pressed the open door inward. With a sinking feeling of guilt, Peg looked into his glare. “I thought ya were turning the phone off.”

  “I said I’d mute it, not turn it off.”

  “Yer being very impolite. My mum thought maybe ya were sick.”

  “Uh… no. Sorry.”

  “Turn the phone off.”

  “Tripp…” she whined.

  “Off. Now. No more texting until tomorrow. Yer here to meet my family, not poke at yer phone.”

  “But my friends—”

  “Can wait. Ya can’t be at their beck and call 24/7.”

  Resigned, Peg turned off the phone.

  “Hand it to me.”

  “Now you’re being mean. Don’t you trust me?”

  “After the mute versus vibrate crap? Should I trust ya with the phone?”

  “I… okay.” She handed the phone over, but was quite resentful about it. Sure she had not stuck to the spirit of their agreement, but it was a loophole. Everyone exploited loopholes, didn’t they?

  “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

  “You’re keeping my phone?”

  “I’m spanking yer arse.”

  “No!”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I am. Tonight. After they’re in bed.”

  “Tripp… I…”

  “No excuses. Ya think about what it means to be rude with yer bloody phone while ya wait for yer paddling.”

  “You’re so mean to me.” She didn’t deserve a spanking. Texting wasn’t about safety—except in her car, but she’d learned that lesson and lost her car in the process. Texting was about staying in contact with people. Of course, there were people to contact here on the station as well, Tripp’s family. Maybe they were a bigger priority while her friends were less of one under the circumstances.

  They went back to the table and Letty served blackberry pie with vanilla ice cream. Peg had the impression that they’d been done for a while and had been waiting on her to come back before dessert. It made her cheeks hot to think she’d put them out like that.

  Chapter Nine

  It was lonely in his old room. He thought of Peggy in hers, down the hall, and wondered exactly how and when he’d actually fallen in love with her. She was spoiled, sometimes thoughtless, often irksome, but she was so young and full of life. The little things could be corrected. But he worried about her need to depend financially on her parents. She had a poor attitude where her independence was concerned. Tripp had a notion that maybe it stemmed from a lack of confidence in her own ability to take care of herself. She had no experience with it, and it must seem somewhat daunting. Her bravado with her safety might very well be over-compensation for her fears of failure.

  Her sense of entitlement was likely defensive, rather than venal. At least, that’s what he hoped. He’d have a better idea once she got word from the nature magazine about her article and pictures. If they accepted her, paid her, maybe she’d get the idea that she didn’t need to be on the family dole and could stand on her own two feet. Tripp certainly hoped so, because if that wasn’t the case, there was no hope for their relationship. She needed to break free of that dependence, because Tripp couldn’t have a woman who had to be dependent on him for everything.

  His mother was an excellent example of how a woman could be independent and yet trust her husband to care for her. He didn’t want a woman exactly like his mother, of course, he wanted someone who had new ideas and a fresh outlook, a more modern outlook, even while accepting some old-fashioned ideas, like getting spanked.

  Tripp looked at the clock and listened for stirring in the house. It was quiet and very late. Spanking Peggy for her phone use was on his agenda, and now was the perfect time.

  He was stealthy when he left his room, tapping on Peggy’s door lightly, hoping she wasn’t already asleep.

  “Yes?” she called in a soft voice.

  “It’s Tripp. We need to talk.”

  “Okay. Come in.”

  Tripp entered the room to find Peggy sitting on the narrow bed, brushing her hair. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and it looked like she hadn’t much begun getting ready for bed.

  He closed the door behind him, came in and sat on the bed next to her. “We have to be quiet,” he told her. “I don’t want to wake my family.”

  “All right. What is this about?”

  “I think ya know.”

  It took a moment for her to consider that. “You’re right about my phone. I was rude. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “And I’ve thought about what you said in the car. This place doesn’t seem boring. And trekking through the outback isn’t boring. And you seem to manage to have enough money. I hate being dependent on my parents. When my mom cut me off, I was scared. Of course, I turned to Dad, but he didn’t want to pay for me either. I felt like maybe I had to get a job. But…”

  Tripp waited, but her pause drew on. “But?”

  “But I don’t know how to do anything! That’s when I realized I needed to focus on something. I couldn’t go back to school and be a lousy student—because that’s what I was, a crappy student—and keep the status quo. So, I took the one thing I’d learned in school and decided to build myself on that.”

  “That was very strong of ya.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But I’m still mooching off my dad. I can’t support myself. Sometimes, it feels like I can’t do anything right.”

  “Yer nails are great,” he teased, taking her han
d and giving it a squeeze.

  That got a quiet laugh out of her. “Maybe I should become a manicurist.”

  “Maybe. But yer photos are grouse, luv. If you persist, you’ll get somewhere with them. I didn’t read yer article. How confident do ya feel about that?”

  “I had my friend Mandy read it. She is a genius with writing. All her papers got A’s. She told me how to fix some grammar and how to rearrange some of the paragraphs, but she also said it was really good and that the magazine would be dumb to reject it.”

  “There ya go. You’ll get there.”

  “What if they reject me?”

  He patted her hand, clasping it and locking their fingers together. “They won’t reject you, Peggy. If they reject anything, they’ll be rejecting it. There’s a big difference. Try not to let yer ego get between you and what ya want.”

  “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again, hm?”

  “Yeah. Don’t give up too easily.”

  She stared at their interlocked fingers. “It’s hard.”

  “Growing up is a tough thing, all right. But we all do it. Some better than others.”

  “You think of me as a girl, don’t you?”

  Should he admit that in so many ways she was an immature girl in a woman’s body? Probably not. “I think of ya as my girl.”

  Her face brightened with a smile. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really.”

  Letting go of his fingers, she ran her hand up his arm as far as she could reach. “Would you care to show me?”

  Everyone was asleep, and they might be able to get away with it, but first things first. He couldn’t spank her in the house; they had to go somewhere his parents couldn’t hear.

  “I think we have some unfinished business first,” he told her.

  Peggy looked quizzical, but soon her face registered understanding. “You’re really going to spank me again.”

  He nodded. “For using yer phone improperly.”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “I think it’s a habit, Peggy. I think it needs to have a deterrent attached to it.”

  “But, Tripp…”

  Giving her hand a tug, he rose to his feet and pulled her behind him as he headed for the door. “Come with me. Let’s get this over with, luv.”

  Her answer was a sigh.

  Tripp led them out of the house and over to the stables. It was dark inside, and the strong smell of horses tickled his nose. It was a familiar smell, reminding him of the best things about the cattle station. He turned on the overhead lights and one of the horses whickered. He patted the roan mare as he passed by. “There, there, Buttercup. We won’t keep ya awake for long.” She snorted and moved under his hand.

  * * *

  “Aren’t people going to notice the lights?” Peg asked.

  “Nah. They’re all sleeping soundly. Long days with the cattle tend to make for a good night’s sleep.”

  Peg was wishing for a good night’s sleep about now. But she had been impolite and she did deserve a spanking. How she’d gotten to the point where these spankings were acceptable behavior she didn’t quite know. But they had, and she was willing to pay the price for her bad behavior. At least then she’d feel less guilty. There was something comforting about getting past the problem and having a clean slate.

  She followed Tripp to the stack of hay bales toward the back of the stable. “Wait here.”

  Waiting was torture, as Tripp took several minutes to do whatever he was doing in another part of the building. But soon he came back with a leather thing in his hand. It was long, braided, with a pair of tails. It looked like a whip. A sense of panic made Peg back up a step, until the back of her knees hit a hay bale and she sat down abruptly. If Tripp actually used that on her, she wouldn’t be sitting so comfortably for a long time.

  “What is that?”

  “A quirt. We use it on the horses occasionally. It doesn’t do them harm and it won’t harm you either. I know how to use it.”

  “It’s going to hurt.”

  “Well, yeah. That’s the point. All spankings hurt.”

  “Can’t we do something else? Can’t you just use your hand?”

  “Not this time. Now take yer jeans and panties down to yer ankles and bend over the hay.”

  Peg eyed him, thinking about her situation. If she cooperated, the strain between them would likely be over. She could apologize to his family and that would be the end of that. Tripp had her phone, so the temptation was gone for the time being. She squared her shoulders and rose from where she was sitting, determined to do the right thing. It took her less than a minute to bare her behind and take the position.

  “Please be careful, Tripp. Please. I’m scared.”

  Tripp came to stand next to her, putting his warm hand on her butt and stroking the flesh there. It felt so good to have him touch her; she could feel his affection like a comforting blanket. “I promise ya won’t come to any harm, luv. Be a good girl and this will never happen again.”

  He raised the hand that held the quirt and let fly. The stroke snapped brightly, and the sting was immediate. It felt like something hot had left a trail on her upturned bottom. “Ow!” Five more spanks followed. “Oh, God, Tripp, I’m dying here. I’m not sure I can take this.”

  “Of course ya can. Ya want to get beyond the issue, don’t ya?”

  “Yes, but…” Another four swats made her flinch and cry out.

  “The noise won’t matter here, Peg. If ya want to curse me, go ahead. I’m going to make sure we never have to deal with this phone problem again.”

  “I won’t text when I shouldn’t! I promise!”

  Tripp kept spanking, no matter how she pleaded. Eventually, she began to cry. That slowed things down a bit, though the spanking didn’t stop. Peg felt like her butt was on fire, welted, marked with a stripe for every character of the texts she’d sent.

  By the time the spanking stopped, Peg was a blubbering mass of pain and humiliation. She swore to herself that she’d never commit that sin again.

  Tripp sat on the hay bale and gathered her up in his arms. After a while, as her tears began to abate, he drew her face up for a kiss. It was a sweet kiss, exploring gently.

  “Shouldn’t we go to your room?” she asked through a watery voice.

  “Those rooms are too close to my parents. They’ll almost certainly hear us.”

  “Mmm. That feels good. I promise I’ll be better, Tripp. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  Tripp tickled her earlobe again and she softly sighed. He nibbled at her neck, down toward her shoulder where he gave her a love bite. Her moan was louder this time and she tilted her head to one side so he could do it again. He did, all too gently.

  “More,” she whispered.

  “Not here,” he explained. “They’ll see the tooth marks.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  He laughed against her, and she drew her head back, opening the curve of her throat for his tongue and lips to explore. Her bottom was still on fire, but it seemed much less important than the other sensations she was feeling: affection, care, even reverence, and no small amount of lust.

  Finally, he broke from her, stood and took his jeans off, leaving them in a soft mound on the floor. Before he took her in his arms again, he helped her step out of her jeans and panties and to remove the rest of her clothes. The warm night air caressed her, even while Tripp’s hands were stroking her, too.

  The next kisses they shared were a lot more passionate.

  He bent to tease her nipples and she arched, opening her body for his use.

  Putting his shirt and hers carefully on the hay bale for a cushion, Tripp encouraged Peg to sit down. It hurt, but the pokes of the hay through the t-shirts was nothing in comparison to the knowledge of what Tripp was about to do as he knelt between her knees and eased them apart. Peg raked her fingers through his tousled hair, arching her back, pressing herself out toward him.

  He lapped at her until she mo
aned, until she squirmed, until she begged. But he didn’t allow her to orgasm.

  When she was close, close enough to be yanking on his hair, he rose and took her with him, lifting her and turning them until her back was up against one of the metal stall sides. The horse within made a noise and kicked lightly against the stall.

  Tripp slid his cock home.

  “Yes! It feels so good!”

  The horse hoofed the side of the stall, the rhythm a counterpoint to their lovemaking.

  “Yeah, luv. Me, too.”

  “Oh, God,” she cried, arching up against him, pressing him as deeply as he could go. In this instance, they came at the same time. Her body pulsed in time to the horse’s thumps, until, gasping, they rested there for a little while, touching foreheads together, their breaths mingling.

  “Thank you,” he said, and though she didn’t say it, Peg was giving her thanks to him as well, with kisses and whispered praise.

  * * *

  The next day, Peg found her phone on the dining room table next to her place setting, but she kept it on mute through their hearty breakfast. Once they went outside to explore a little more, she turned the chimes back on. Tripp’s father, Emmett, walked up and stood at the corral where Peg was watching the horses, while Tripp saddled a pair.

  “Going riding?” Emmett asked.

  “Yes. Tripp’s saddling the horses.” Her phone chime went off. “Excuse me.”

  Although she saw Emmett’s surprised look as she turned to her phone, Peg ignored it. She’d only be a minute. But when she looked up again—had it been more than a minute?—Emmett was gone. Peg shrugged, though she felt a little guilty, and went on with her phone exchange.

  Unfortunately, Tripp found her there, thumbs poised over the virtual keyboard.

  “I thought you’d done with that.”

  Peg knew she was in the wrong, but she felt defensive. “You were busy. I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but I saw ya talking to my father, and then turning to yer phone. Judging by the look on his face, I’d say he found yer behavior rude.”

  “He did? I said excuse me.”